Never Alone
by blackkittycat89
Summary: In the two years since he has left London, Sherlock has had the constant company of John's voice in his head. The longer he is away from his friend, the harsher John's judgements become. So what might John have been saying in Serbia?


Keep running. Just keep running.

I know! Shut up.

Idiot. Who breaks into a building belonging to Serbian organised crime?

They had information I needed. You've done ridiculous things too.

At least I didn't invade Afghanistan all by myself.

I'm not by myself! Mycroft is on his way.

And he's clearly been a big help so far.

Shut. Up!

Sherlock keeps running, but he knows the Serbians are closing in on him. The barking of the dogs becomes louder and louder. The helicopter overhead is obviously equipped with a heat seeker, making it easier to track him in the woods.

He runs alongside the road leading to the building where they had been keeping him for the past two weeks, trying to figure out if he should cross the road or not. Deciding against it, he runs back into a denser part of the woods, knowing some of his captors are probably already waiting for him a bit further up ahead.

You're not going to make it.

I know!

Too bad you don't have friends. They would've protected you.

Sherlock ignores the voice in his head. The longer he had been away from London, away from John, away from home, the more that voice had become mocking and defiant. He can hear two people running along with him, one on either side of him, but he can't yet see them.

Two. There are only two. Where's the third one? Aah. Of course.

Sherlock changes course, now running straight for where he knows the third goon is waiting for him. The other two are shouting, probably telling each other what he is doing, but Sherlock is too focused on the rest of his plan to really pay them any more attention.

He runs out into a little clearing in the middle of the woods. The third man is already waiting for him. The other two finally catch up with him and are now flanking him. He has two options. He can surrender to his captors or he can turn around and run the other way. Sherlock has no doubt that he will get shot if he tried that, so he picks the safe option.

His Serbian isn't as good as his German, but it doesn't have to be. The movements his captors make tell him all he needs to know. He drops down to the ground and surrenders. The two thugs who had been flanking him grab him by the arms and start dragging him back towards his prison. The third one walks behind them, keeping his gun pointed at Sherlock's head.

Once he's back in what his captors have been calling the interrogation room, they throw him on the floor and start kicking him. A few kicks land hard enough to make Sherlock think he has broken a rib or two. He doesn't resist, he just takes the beating, and eventually his captors stop. He gets told to stand up. He tries, but he stumbles forward and falls back to his knees. One of the Serbians lifts him up by the arms and keeps him still whilst another one punches him in the gut a few times. They let him fall back onto the floor, but not before tearing off his shirt, leaving him more exposed to their future attacks.

He realises he will not be left alone in this room for now. He has tried to escape one time too many. Two men leave and the third one stays behind, keeping his eyes on him the entire time. Sherlock knows what is coming next. He keeps lying on the floor, knowing he will have to recover as much as he can in the next few minutes. The man watching him poses no threat at the moment. He is young.

Far too young to be involved in this.

And who was the one solving murders when he was still a child?

I tried to find killers!

Exactly.

The door opens and Sherlock lifts his head slightly. He can see a man with a gun in a uniform who is obviously keeping guard, but his attention is focused on the thug who has just entered the room. It seems the Serbians have finally decided to up the ante. The new man is no stranger to torture. He bears the obvious scars, but Sherlock can also see a dangerous look in his eyes. Whatever this man will do to him, the hunger in his eyes tells Sherlock that he will enjoy making his prisoner suffer.

The man orders the boy to chain up the prisoner. Sherlock gets told to stand up. He manages to stand up and is led to the middle of the room, where he had seen manacles attached to both walls. He feels the boy closing the cuff on his right hand. The chain on the other side is too short, so Sherlock's arms get pulled taut in order to fasten the left one too. Once he's finished, the boy gets ordered out of the room.

"You will tell me why you came here."

The man walks closer towards Sherlock. He ducks under one of the chains keeping Sherlock in place. Sherlock can hear him walking to the far side of the room. He has had enough time to admire the equipment: chains, pliers, a whip. Whatever is coming, he already knows he will have to endure it.

Where is Mycroft?

Oh. I thought you didn't need anyone?

Sherlock is surprised when he feels a knife gliding over his back. He hadn't heard his torturer approaching him.

"You will talk. Are you ready, šupak?"

Sherlock clenches his jaw, determined to win some time. He knows Mycroft is close. He has to be. All Sherlock has to do, is stay quiet.

The first cut is made to his left shoulder. The pain is unlike anything he has ever experienced. It burns. He feels the knife cut him a second time. A third time. The knife gets twisted slightly now, increasing the burning pain. Sherlock finds little relief in knowing he was right: the man wielding the knife knows exactly what he's doing.

"You don't have anything to say? Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find something to make you talk."

His torturer walks away, throwing the knife aside. This time, Sherlock pays attention to his footsteps. He can't move enough to see what is happening behind him, but when the footsteps stop much too early, he knows what's coming. The first crack of the whip doesn't hit him.

"Tell me why you broke in, pízda!"

Sherlock breathes through the pain the first lashes cause him. He starts sweating with the effort of not making a sound. The next lash breaks the skin on his lower back. He grunts through the pain, still unwilling to give his captor the pleasure of hearing him scream. His sweat trickles down his back, first seeping into the cuts, bringing back the burning pain.

There's a knock on the door. The torturer gives him one final lash before dropping the whip. He ducks back under the chain, making sure to kick Sherlock's feet out from under him. The short chains prevent him from falling to his knees. When the door opens, he lifts his head just enough to see what is happening outside the room. He sees the same young man that chained him up. Clearly he was sent to relay a message. The ensuing conversation is too quiet for Sherlock to hear, but it ends with the man turning off the light in the interrogation room and closing the door behind him.

Sherlock is left alone, chained up, for hours. He tries yanking on the chains, hoping they will detach from the wall and give him a better chance at another escape. When that fails, he lets exhaustion claim him. If he keeps his body straight enough, he can actually rest on his knees. He never truly falls asleep, always listening out for the faintest noise. When he hears two people approaching, he scrambles back to his feet. The movement reopens the gashes on his back. Fresh blood mixes with sweat and dried blood. The door opens, revealing the young man and a new face. It only takes Sherlock half a second to deduce that this is not someone sent by Mycroft.

So where's your brother?

He will be here.

Of course he will.

Shut up, John!

The young man closes the door behind him, leaving Sherlock alone with the man. He doesn't say anything, he just walks over to where the first one dropped the whip. Sherlock clenches his jaw, preparing for the worst.

Mycroft will be here.

…

He will. And I will come back home. Promise.


End file.
